Gabrielle whirls around, coming face to face with Hill, and he's wearing a dark suit and shiny leather shoes, and he's looking at Bryan the way he looks at the lower class man who comes to the club. He reaches behind him and grabs a wooden staff from the props and thwacks Bryan across the shoulder. Bryan winces and lets go of Gabrielle's wrist.

"That wasn't necessary, Hill," Gabrielle says. "He's my friend."

Hill glances at Bryan, shrugs, and tosses the stick onto the ground. Gabrielle sighs with relief, but the feeling is short-lived. Janetta appears behind Hill with a sour grin on her face.

"Oh, is he your client, Gabrielle?" Janetta asks. She looks Hill up and down and extends her manicured hand. "Nice to meet you. I'm Janetta. I hope you're taking good care of my little sister."

Hill ignores her hand, and Janetta awkwardly pretends to pick fluff off her costume. A crowd starts to gather around them, and Gabrielle wishes Hill would be a little more subtle. After all, it's my day off, she thinks. He shouldn't be bothering me today.

"What do you want, Hill?" she snaps.

"Mr. Oliver asked me to come here," Hill answers. "He sends his regards and asks when you'll be finished."

Gabrielle blinks with confusion. Hill has never treated her so politely before, and she wonders why he's starting now. The crew members and extras seem to notice, too—she can hear them whispering and speculating all around her.

Suddenly the crowd parts and a round man in a solid white suit rushes forward. He extends his meaty hand and shakes hands with Hill and then claps Hill on the back as if they're old friends.

"I had no idea you were coming here, Hill," the man says. "You should've told me you were coming by. I could have arranged some entertainment for you—of course not nearly the same as you have up at the club."

Hill arches an eyebrow and sneers at the fat man, and Gabrielle wonders who he is. He's clearly familiar with the Top Girls Club, but she's never seen him around before. She hears snickering behind her and strains her ears to listen.

"Who would've thought our dear old producer went to the Top Girls Club," a man whispers mockingly.

"Well, have you seen him?" a female voice giggles. "It's probably the only way he can get a girl."

"Shh," the man warns. "If we upset the producer, we'll never work again."

Gabrielle turns to Hill and says, "What if I'm not ready to go back?"

Hill sighs and says, "Mr. Oliver was worried you'd feel that way. He threatened to reduce your rank if you're not back by three."

"But it hasn't even been a day," she complains. "It's only been a few hours."

She knows it's useless to refuse Jackson, but it seems to be terribly unfair. I worked so hard to get the promotion just so I could get one day away, and now Jackson won't even let me have that, she thinks. Is he trying to keep me, prisoner, at the club? Hill shrugs and starts to walk away, clearly expecting her to follow. With a small sigh, she gathers her skirts and takes a step after him.

"Hey, she says she doesn't want to go with you," Bryan snarls.

He steps in front of her, shielding her with his body. His hands clenched into fists at his side, and Gabrielle thinks of all the fights he's been in over the years. As children, he was one of her biggest tormentors, but he was also her most prominent defender. She sighs and taps him on the back.

"It's okay, Bryan," she says.

"No, it's not," Bryan says, his eyes dark and stormy.

"Really, I'll be fine," she whispers. "I'm looking forward to seeing this film once it is released. And who knows? Maybe our paths will cross again."

Bryan looks like he's about to stop her, but she shakes her head. Hill probably has bodyguards all over the studio, and she doesn't want to watch Bryan get beat up. His face clouds over, and then he steps away. As she leaves, she fights the urge to look back over her shoulder. There's no way he'll want to see me after this, she thinks.

A black Lamborghini waits in the bright sunlight outside, and Gabrielle recognizes it as Jackson's personal car. She sighs and let's Hill lead her to the front door.

Avery sighs and rereads Gabrielle's text message. She can't believe her little sister is canceling on her. Though I suppose she doesn't have much of a choice, she thinks. If Jackson wants her to stay at the club today, she has to stay.

She tucks the bag with the cufflinks under her arm and walks into the parking garage. Before she's even halfway to the car, the back door swings open. Evan is lying across the leather seats with a bored expression. She tosses him the bag with the cufflinks, and he scowls and drops it onto the passenger seat.

"I don't want that," he says, sounding disgusted.

She sighs and slides into the car. The moment she sits down, his hands around her waist, and he rests his head on her shoulders. He inhales deeply and brushes his lips across the purpling hickey on her neck.

"Don't you want to know what I've been doing for the last half hour?" he asks.

"Business?" she guesses.

"No," he whispers. "I've been thinking about you. And all the things I want to do to you."

Avery rolls her eyes and tries to pull away from him, but he doesn't let her move an inch. She drops her handbag onto the floor and makes eye contact with the driver through the rearview mirror.

"Can you take us to the hospital?" she asks.

Evan's forehead creases, and he asks, "Are you okay?"

She ignores the question and runs her fingers through his short hair, gently raking her nails across his scalp. He nips at her collarbone, and she shivers and tries to push him away.

"What's gotten into you?" she asks. "Ever since the church, you've been all over me."

Evan laughs deep in his throat and continues his attack on her neck and clavicle. He presses his palm against her waist and pulls her even closer. His smell overwhelms her, and she relaxes into his embrace.

"Wait, Evan," she says. "We can't do this now." She pulls away from him and slides toward the window, straightening her clothes and tugging her shirt collar up to hide the hickey. "Hey, did you ever get the test results from nanny's doctor?" she asks. "He never called me while I was gone—I think he only trusts you."

"Yeah," Evan says. "I got the results."

"And?" she asks. "Last time I talked to him, he said there was a compound commonly used in insecticides in her blood. What did he tell you?"

Evan ignores her again and slides closer to her until he's pressing her into the door. He tucks her hair behind her ear and strokes his thumb across her cheek. Then he leans in and nibbles on her ear. She bites her tongue to keep from moaning and tries to push him away.

Suddenly, the car hits a pothole, and he falls backward. She tips forward and lands sprawled on top of him. One hand falls against the front of his pants, and she feels him start to stiffen. She pulls her hand away and tries to sit up, but he groans and tugs her on top of him, cupping her ass with his strong hands.

"Calm down, Evan," she says. "Think about the poor baby."

Evan slides one hand between them and caresses the gentle swell of her stomach. His expression softens, but the lust doesn't leave his eyes.

"Maybe I need to have a little talk with him," he says. "But I don't think he'll complain."

"Evan, stop," she groans. "Seriously, what's gotten into you? Before I was pregnant, we only made love a few times, but ever since then, you've been insatiable. Do you have some sort of fetish for pregnant women?"

Evan swats her ass, but his eyes grow serious, "Speaking of insatiable, did we ever talk about those pills Charles gave you?"

"What pills?" she asks.

"The birth control pills," he says.

"No, what about them?" she asks.

"I gave the pills to David to test," he says. "He did an experiment with mice. After the mice ate the pills with their food, they became very attracted to each other. They constantly wanted to mate. Apparently, the pills had ingredients to stimulate sex hormones. If people take them frequently enough, they might even get the sense they're falling in love with someone."

"So that's why you shot Charles?" she asks.

"That's the first thing you ask?" he asks, sounding angry. "Why aren't you upset or even surprised?"

"I'm just overwhelmed," she says, closing her eyes and pressing her fingers to her temples.